Lang ago whun I wus young an wedges wusnae big   
Five poun ten for fifty ‘oors lukin efter oul' Moores pigs
Whun I got my first weeks weges I wus in a kine o' trance
I lukked at my twarthry shillin an sez I, I'm for a dance

So I polished up my beetle boots an geen mysel a steep
If they play a wheen o’ waltzes I'll birl them aff thir feet
So I sprayed alo my oxters an poothered a’ my feet
In case that they got scadded way dancin in the heat

I lukked intae the lukkin gless boys I wuz lukkin sharp
Then I struck aff tae M'lernons for a pint or two o’ Harp
For a couple maks you bouler for chattin tae the weemin
But tak it hurrid canny for they dinnae lake yeh steamin

Well I wheeled oot the oul bicycle an I put on baith my clips
Tae keep my new bell bottoms fae crackin lake a whip
It was a ticht oul push again the win an mae poor wee legs was sore
But I could think o' naithin but birlin roon the floor

When iver I got near the hall I already hard the band
So I fired the oul bicycle behin a creamry stan
I surveyed the hall and occupants with a very casual glance
They were hurckled up in corners well, sez I, I'm here tae dance

Oh! as nice a bunch o’ lasses as you'd ever hope tae meet
But the only yin that wud dance wae me had pirfa size o' feet
She wus six fit three an sixteen stone way shoothers lake a horse
The only thing that stud tae her wus her freen wus even worse

For she had legs lake horses hems an her ja's wus clappit in
Her hair wus lake a sookit rine an lord but she wus thin
The big yin riz an I lukked up at the stibbles on her chin
An the hair alo her oxters wud a minded yeh on whins

Well she grabbed me lake a rassler, I hard my wee ribs crackin
Sez she I iways dance way hir so I'm nae use at the backin,
Well the band it started pleying an she let oot the clutch
Not an ither sowl got on the flure she wus spaltering that much

She luked tae hae some freckles hir legs wus mazled way the fire
But thon freckles wusnae freckles she'd been brushin oot the byre
When the waltz wus ower she set me on a form
An she drew a cloot across her broo an sez Im damp't its warm

Sez I I’m gan out for a smoke I’ll see you in a minute
She produced an ounce a Warhorse fae some where doon her simmit
Says I young lasses shoodnae smoke
Says she aye that’s the truth, an snicked a wallop aff it an stuck it in her mooth

She says noo joost you sit there for I man go doon the stairs
The oul thin yin she went wae her for they seemed tae hunt in pairs
I waited for a minute tae I got her in the loo
Sez I if you're tae escape fae thon ye better dae it noo

I ran while I wus able tae where the bicycle wus hidden
For I wus gled an thankfa tae be red o’ thon big midden
They say she owned her ain wee farm but even she had two
The thocht o’ thon big wummin makes me trimmle even noo

Imagine thon gan intae bed it would mak you’re bluid rin coul
Wae her gless eye in a jampot an her false teeth in a boul

This recording was funded by the Ulster-Scots Broadcast Fund.

Charlie Gillen - The Dance

But springtim wull land agin.

Noo greet tha returnin’ sun.

Lift yer heed tae tha’ apen sky.

Mak yersel readie tae sïng. 

This recording was funded by the Ulster-Scots Broadcast Fund.

Anne McMaster - Spring Song

Ah wait on ye here

shinin’ bricht as a new-foun’ light,

catched by joy o’ye

*

Ah bring ye this day

hoult in goold, iverie minit new.

Blossom hir an’ growe. 

This recording was funded by the Ulster-Scots Broadcast Fund.

Anne McMaster - Greeting The Morning As My Love - A Sedoka

It iz a blessin’ tae houl wi’in ma hairt

this fresh new day

this raisin’ sun.

this stoon o’ light

this niver-endin’ tholing blue. 

This recording was funded by the Ulster-Scots Broadcast Fund.

Anne McMaster - A Blessing On A Summer Morning

Ma feither caa’d Wee Tam’s Tha Muin

fur tha eyefu frae tha gutter o thon Deil’s Den,

tha mair, tae a weefla, Iniquity, a stern kirk-wurd,

glamour’t thaim coup’t Deil’s Ain.

Yit, canny, A luk’t up tae Him, tha Lord

That wrocht tha stars, tha muin.

But thon ither god, tha Yankee wan, riz then.

A lairnt new words – “Trajectory”, “Jettison”

And I sloughed off my pleghmy, chagrining “ain” −

Fiftie year on, wised-up, A’m bak tae yirth agane. 

This recording was funded by the Ulster-Scots Broadcast Fund.

Charlie Gillen - The Dance

Negative Waves

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